


Beautiful creature

by b0rnbackwards



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Bottom Derek, Bottom Stiles Stilinski, Hunter Stiles Stilinski, M/M, Serial Killer Stiles, Sociopath Stiles, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-19
Updated: 2013-04-19
Packaged: 2017-12-08 22:53:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,784
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/766995
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/b0rnbackwards/pseuds/b0rnbackwards
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles is working Derek open. He loves it. The way Derek shivers beneath him, moans, breathes out his name. The way Derek begs him to add another finger, to go faster, harder, until it hurts. It’s a beautiful thing to watch.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Beautiful creature

**Author's Note:**

> If you're looking for porn, don't read this fic.  
> This is my frist Sterek fic where I ACTUALLY write smut, so please don't judge me.  
> This fic is not about the sex. The sex is the smallest part of it.  
> Also, I just wrote this today, so no beta for me.
> 
> I apologize for this fic already.

Stiles is working Derek open. He loves it. The way Derek shivers beneath him, moans, breathes out his name. The way Derek begs him to add another finger, to go faster, harder, until it hurts. It’s a beautiful thing to watch, to hear, to feel.

He has three fingers in now, and Derek’s making soft noises on the back of his throat that Stiles knows he’s making only and exclusively to please his human boyfriend, because he thinks Stiles can’t cause him any real pain, since he’s a werewolf. If only he knew.

If he knew, Stiles knows, he wouldn’t even look at Stiles anymore. Because Stiles is a monster, a underestimated human monster. But he can’t help it.

Not that he would ever hurt Derek. No, he would never. Derek is the only reason he actually hurts anyone. 

Okay, maybe not the only one.

The thing is, he can’t help himself. He can’t hold his monster inside of him.

He looks at the hand he’s using to finger Derek as he adds a fourth finger. It’s covered in lube, his hand, but if he concentrates, his imagination can make it look like blood. _Fuck_ , his imagination can make it _smell_ like blood. And it does. And Derek pushes back on his fingers, making them go in deeper, like he knows Stiles is picturing blood, like he aches for it.

Stiles moans.

“You’re so fucking _beautiful_ , Derek,” he breaths out, and it’s true. Derek is just beautiful. It’s beautiful how he his so strong, but here, in his bed, in his room, with Stiles, he turns weak, because he trusts Stiles, because Stiles deserves that weakness that hides underneath his skin, burried under the facade of a heartless fighter.

Not really, Stiles doesn’t deserve it, because he is a monster.

But he’s so greatful that he has it, because he is here, and he’s looking at Derek, panting beneath him, and controlling himself so hard not to shift, not to let the side of him that he thinks is a monster run free in front of Stiles, and he looks so strong, yet so weak, all together, and it’s just perfect.

“Stop controlling your wolf.” He whispers, kissing the inside of the werewolf’s thigh and looking up at his perfect face, and Derek just grins defiantly.

“No.”

“Why?”

“You really want it? Work for it.”

Stiles says Derek doesn’t mean it, he’s just saying it because he’s stubborn and doesn’t want his wolf to run free. But then again, he’s underestimating Stiles.

And the defiant tone in his voice…

It reminds Stiles of his first kill.

And he shouldn’t, because he promissed himself he would hold his beast back, in that corner of his mind that Derek can’t get in, when he was having any type of physical contact with his boyfriend, but he licks his way from Derek’s thigh to his balls slowly, sucking them, and letting himself be dragged into the memory.

He remembers so vividly, how he finally got the shot right. Got the girl down to the ground with an arrow right across her knee, rupturing it's ligaments. He pulled her by the ankle and dozed her off with tranquilizers once she was on the back of his jeep. She woke up lying on an autopsy table Stiles stole from the morge of the police station. Her wrists, ankles, and hips tied down to it with wolfsbane bathed ropes. Her eyes were already shifting from a light brown color to a glowing blue. But she didn’t make a sound. Not even a little suggestion of a sound. Such a proud rogue omega. 

“You really wanna hear me scream? Work for it,” she said. And Stiles did. And by the time Stiles was done with her, she had screamed so much and so loud that her vocal chords were messed up, and only little groans of pain could be made out of them. It was delicious. All of it. The glowing blue eyes tearing up, her blood hot in Stiles' hands, the cuts he made on her turning black because of the wolfsbane on his bistoury. She screamed and howled so beautifully, the beast inside of her fighting the poison running through her veins, trying to heal. But she didn’t beg for her life, not once. She knew she was a monster, just like Stiles is, and just like Stiles knows. But he’s a monster in a mission. A mission to take away anyone and everyone who could cause any harm to his boyfriend. He takes down the monsters so none of them get to Derek, so Derek never has to release his own beast to a kill and feel like he’s a monster afterwards.

Derek’s not a monster.

But he can’t lie, he likes it, to kill and torture. To hear the screaming, the begging, the sound of the skin burning with wolfsbane, like hot metal under cold water. And it feels good, when he sees the life fading away from a monster’s eyes, when his hands get bloddy as he cuts through skin, when he places his bistoury on their throat when they don’t have a voice to whimper anymore because they already screamed so much and

"Stiles !"

Derek’s voice is loud and brings him back to reality. His mouth is on Derek’s cock, and he backs off, his boyfriend’s dick escaping his mouth with a wet pop, and looks down. His entire fist is into the werewolf, who is gasping, with red eyes, only one little push away from wolfing out.

“What do you want, Derek? Tell me.”

“You. I want you, Stiles,” Derek breathes out. “Fucking focus.”

“Oh I’m focused, hun,” Stiles murmurs quietly as he slides his hand out of Derek and presses kisses all the way up from Derek’s stomach to Derek’s mouth. “Wanna ride me?”

Derek shivers and nods, already flipping them so he’s on top. His knees press against Stiles’ sides a little, hurting just the tiniest bit and making Stiles groan. Derek holds Stiles’ cock still, adjusts it with his entrance, and goes down just a little, willing to feel Stiles going in, inch my inch. But Stiles presses in entirely, fast and hard, because, honestly, he’s too far gone for the being gentle crap, so he goes in, all the way, as hard as he can, and if he didn’t know better, he would believe that Derek felt at least a little bit of pain. But he does know better.

“ _Fuck!_ ” Derek blurts out, and wolfs out growling, calling Stiles’ name between his sharp wolfy teeth.

The initial thrusts are slow and hard, like Stiles was exploring the territory, like the fucker didn’t know it already, and than they set up a fast pace, with violent thrusts and their bodies colliding, meeting halfway between Derek fucking himself on Stiles and Stiles fucking into Derek. Stiles feels like he’s high just from the wild low sounds that escape his boyfriend’s mouth. He slides his hands over every inch of skin he can reach, his hands shaking and his fingertips burning as he craves to touch Derek, to feel the way that Derek’s muscles tense up as he tries to reach them through Derek’s skin.

Stiles is already aware that he won’t last long when Derek bites his bottom lip, cutting through his own flesh, a line of blood streaming down his chin. Stiles never done this before, never tasted anyone’s blood, but _fuck_ he wants to, because it’s Derek’s blood and it looks so beautiful forming a line from his bottom lip to his chin. Stiles wants to lick it.

“Come here,” he says under his breath. Derek leans closer to his face and he catches the blood with his tongue, and it feels like a shot of absinthe, burning where it touches, leaving a feeling of numbness as it passes by, and making him dizzy once he swallows it. Or maybe that’s just in his head. Doesn’t matter, he feels it anyway, and he wants more, but the cut is already healed. Derek is watching him closely, paying attention to everything his blood does to Stiles. He knows it drives Stiles crazy, and Stiles knows what it means to him. In Derek’s head, this is Stiles accepting the beast inside of his werewolf boyfriend. 

Stiles speeds up the pace, thrusting in harder and faster, and moans loudly. Just a second later, Derek is coming in a hot, messy splash that spreads all over Stiles’ stomach, and stiles comes right after, with his dick still entirely inside Derek, filling his boyfriend up as he arches his back. They stay like that for a while, eyes closed, until the afterglow fades away, and than Derek lies down next to Stiles, with his head on the human’s chest. He starts to change back into his human form, but Stiles stops him.

“No. Stay like this.”

“Why?”

“I like it.”

“How can you like it? I’m a monster.”

Ans when Derek says that, Stiles feels his hate for Kate fill his mind. She did that to Derek. Made him believe he was the monster between the two of them. Stiles wishes he was the one that got to kill her, like he wished every single time Derek showed him any scar left by kate in his heart. Stiles even dreams about it sometimes, about Kate begging him for her life as he cuts her open, and her screams sounding like a sweet melody of vengeance. 

The hate goes away just a moment later, though, because he remembers he is too, a monster. And he feels sorry for his boyfriend, for his Derek, his poor Derek. The only two people he ever let in his hearts are monsters. Derek was doomed to fall in love with people that make turning into a giant wolf every full moon sound like fun. 

“Oh Derek, no, you’re not a monster. You’re a beautiful, _beautiful_ creature.” It’s all Stiles says, because it’s the only thing he can say that doesn’t give away that he _himself_ is a monster, and because, honestly, it’s true. He is looking at Derek now, and the wolf is out (not completely, but enough), and he doesn’t see a monster. He never did, not now, not ever. All he sees is this beautiful creature with a damaged heart that he would do (and does) everything to protect. And he thinks derek understands him, and knows what he’s thinking, because Derek smiles and nods.

“I love you,” the werewolf whispers. Stiles smiles wide and presses a kiss against his head.

“I love you, my sourwolf.”

And that’s the first time Derek ever likes to be called that.

**Author's Note:**

> I have a alternate title for this fic, which is Howl. Because of the song Howl by Florence + The machine, and I see the Stiles of this fic on it.  
> Come hang out with me on [tumblr](http://sassyashale.tumblr.com/) and don't forget to give my web series, [Mistaken](http://archiveofourown.org/works/762960/chapters/1428253), a chance of reading, I really like it and I'm working on it's translations.  
> Feel free to send me suggestions and prompts, I totally love prompts.


End file.
